


Drapé de Noir

by animehead



Category: Tiger & Bunny
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Forced Crossdressing, M/M, Minor Violence, Oral Sex, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-07 19:37:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animehead/pseuds/animehead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barnaby wasn't expecting to get caught when he sneaked into his rival's home. Then again, Barnaby wasn't expecting a lot of things. Tomoe's dress doesn't quite fit him, but he looks good in it anyway...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drapé de Noir

Usually, Barnaby prefers a splash of color in whatever he wears. His favorite accent color is red. There’s something about that color that excites him. Power, danger, lust—they all come to mind whenever he wraps his favorite crimson tie around his neck and stares into the mirror.  
  
Unfortunately, tonight Barnaby won’t be wearing his favorite tie. Nor will he be wearing anything red. No. Tonight Barnaby Brooks, Jr. is dressed in black—black shirt, black jacket, black pants, black socks—completely _drapé de noir_.

There isn’t a single light lit that he can see in the mansion he plans on breaking into. Barnaby knows the owner isn’t there—something about a business deal gone bad—but he’s sure the owner has his goons circling his home for, well, people like Barnaby.  
  
Not that Barnaby even needs to break into this man’s home. He has his own money, has his own goons who’ll take a bullet for him for his amusement. He’s just as powerful and certainly just as threatening. Barnaby decides the only difference between the two of them is that Barnaby is bored.  
  
So unbelievably _bored_.  
  
But that’s what happens when you have everything. When you can get anything you want without so much as having to lift a finger, life becomes incredibly dull. And when life is dull, you seek adventure, something to get your blood pumping and your heart racing. And if your cock happens to gets hard right after you’ve slit the throat of a man guarding the back door, well, you’ll just deal with that later.  
  
It’s easy enough to pick the lock and Barnaby knows the code to deactivate the alarm thanks to the guard’s last attempt at pleading for his life. It turns out, however, that Barnaby doesn’t need it. The alarm’s not even activated.  
  
Barnaby moves through the house, stopping to hide behind furniture whenever he hears footsteps, voices, or both. He makes his way upstairs, moving quickly, but slows down to peer into a room—in which a black man with pink hair is fully engrossed in gay porn—before continuing on.  
  
Though he’s never been inside the house, Barnaby can guess where the boss’s room is. Naturally, it’s at the end of the hall, the doors adjacent to it containing ruthless killers who are all willing to die for their leader.  
  
Barnaby easily reaches the door and slowly turns the knob, opening it. The room is simple—a décor of mostly red and black. The man has good taste in furniture. Unfortunately, for him, he doesn’t have the same taste in selecting reliable workers.

Unsure of what he’s looking for, Barnaby moves further into the bedroom. He thinks he can find something useful to blackmail the other man, maybe demand the more popular parts of his turf, but the room is dark and it makes it difficult to see. The only source of light comes from the moon pouring in through the window. Barnaby is tempted to turn on the light, but knows that would be a stupid _rookie_ move.

Quickly, quietly, Barnaby slides open the closet door. There’s nothing of importance in there—shirts, pants, suits, ties, shoes… At the back of the closet there are several articles of women’s clothing—skirts, gowns, sundresses… A few pieces of lingerie that were apparently too good for the dresser hang in the very back. Barnaby knows who the clothing belongs to, or rather, _belonged_ to.

The woman has been dead for years.

Barnaby rolls his eyes and snorts softly. Sentimental value, what good was it? People die. You can’t depend on them for anything else, _except_ that. They live, they die. That’s all.

Barnaby glides his fingers along a soft, satin, dress— spaghetti straps, corset threading in the back… He wonders if she’d picked it out herself or if it’d been a gift, a surprise one night after a successful major drug deal.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” someone whispers into his ear. The voice is low, subtle, _quiet_ even in the stillness of the room. The familiar sound of a gun being cocked, however, is _not_. In fact, when Barnaby turns his head slightly and sees the barrel of a polished Smith  & Wesson, he’s pretty damn sure it’s the loudest sound he’s ever heard.

He’s yanked away from the closet, gun pointing at his head and pressing against his temple. He stares into red eyes, not unlike his own. Unusual, he knows, for people to have red eyes, but the world isn’t like what it used to be. Genetic disorders, mental disorders, diagnosed, undiagnosed, it didn’t matter. Everyone’s a freak, a monster, a _demon_ in his or her own way.

“Red looks good one you.”

Barnaby frowns because he’s not wearing red. He understands, however, when warm fingers brush across his cheek and glisten with blood.

“Yours?” Kotetsu Kaburagi asks.

Barnaby snorts, offended by the mere suggestion that one of Kotetsu’s morons could actually make him bleed. “His,” he corrects.

Kotetsu sighs. Good help is so difficult to find. “Which one?”

“Backdoor,” Barnaby answers. “Even gave me the alarm code.”

“Dead?”

Barnaby just smirks. That is until a hand smacks him hard across his cheek, a ring with diamonds breaking skin just at the corner of his lip. He stares up at Kotetsu in shock, eyes wide. He’s no stranger to pain, but no one has ever smacked him and definitely not hard enough to make him bleed.

“That’s better then, hm?” Kotetsu says. “Very nice.”

Barnaby can feel Kotetsu eye-raping him, but he has too much pride to break eye contact with the other man. He barely even winces when Kotetsu grabs him by the hair and jerks his head back slightly. But he does tense when Kotetsu slides the gun back and forth across Barnaby’s lips, his eyes never once breaking contact with Barnaby’s.

Kotetsu taps the gun twice against Barnaby’s lips and says, “Open up.”

For a moment, Barnaby thinks about refusing. He’s tempted to challenge the other man, but he doubts he’ll be able to pull his own gun out before Kotetsu can pull the trigger. He stares at Kotetsu for a moment, eyes narrowed, glaring at the older man before slowly opening his mouth.

“That’s right,” Kotetsu says. “Nice and wide.” He slides the gun in Barnaby’s mouth only to slowly pull it back out until on an inch of it remains between his lips. Kotetsu repeats the action several times, fucking Barnaby’s mouth with the gun.

Barnaby knows he should be terrified by this, or at least, alarmed. Whatever he should be, he knows that he _shouldn’t_ be _aroused_ by any of this. But he is, and honestly, he really doesn’t give a shit.

“You’re a good little cocksucker, aren’t you?” Kotetsu says. He stares intently as the barrel glides in and out of Barnaby’s mouth. He wants a taste of that pretty mouth, can’t wait to shove his cock inside of it. But first…

Kotetsu reaches forward with his free hand. He checks Barnaby for weapons, finding a gun a bloody knife. He tosses the knife to the floor and easily ejects the clip on Barnaby’s gun with one hand. It falls to the floor, its sound muffled by the plush, dark, carpet.

“On your knees, pretty boy.” Kotetsu makes sure the safety is on Barnaby’s gun before placing it on the dresser. “Hurry up or my hand gets tired.”

“And if I don’t fear death?” Barnaby asks. “What if I _want_ to die?”

“If you want to die, I’ll kill you, but not before I used that pretty mouth of yours,” Kotetsu replies. “No get on your fucking knees.”

Barnaby doesn’t get the chance to lower himself to his knees because Kotetsu shoves him down, his hand gripping Barnaby’s hair and holding his head still. Kotetsu wants the use of both his hands, but he doesn’t trust Barnaby enough to put down his gun. Again Kotetsu releases Barnaby’s hair, but this time it is to unzip his own pants. He stares down at Barnaby, daring him to attempt to struggle. But Barnaby doesn’t. In fact, the humiliation and indignity of it all is a turn on.

Barnaby fails at hiding his surprise when he sees both the length and girth of Kotetsu’s cock. He opens his mouth to speak, but Kotetsu grabs him by his chin and forces his cock into Barnaby’s mouth. “Suck it like a good little slut,” he orders and groans when Barnaby’s mouth hallows around the tip of his cock.

Kotetsu has to fight to keep his eyes open. He can’t remember how long he’s thought about fucking Barnaby’s mouth. He can remember when Barnaby came into the world of crime, drugs, violence, and death. He was younger then, eager to show anyone what would happen if they crossed him. And he was fast, Kotetsu had seen him literally fighting his way to the top, punching, kicking, and hopping around the place like a damn rabbit.

Kotetsu thrusts forward and moans when Barnaby’s gags around his cock. He’s clearly underestimated Barnaby’s skillful little mouth. Sliding his hand into his pocket, he pulls out his cell phone and dials a number. He speaks in Japanese to someone on the other end for a few seconds before hanging up.

Reluctantly, Kotetsu pulls his cock out of Barnaby’s mouth just as there’s a knock at the door. Kotetsu walks over the door, opens it, mutters something, and then takes a box from the pink haired man. Kotetsu shuts the door and throws the box down at Barnaby’s feet.

For the third time that night, Kotetsu grabs Barnaby by his hair. He drags him over to the open closet and searches for the red gown that Barnaby had stopped to admire. Finding it, Kotetsu pulls it off the hanger and holds it up by its thin straps. “Strip.”

“What?” Barnaby finally speaks. “I’m not wearing that.”

“I didn’t ask you if you were going to. I’m telling you to get undressed and to put on the fucking dress.” He throws the dress at Barnaby and waits impatiently for the younger man to discard his clothing.

Barnaby is both thrilled and confused as he undresses. He stands completely naked in front of Kotetsu whose expression is unreadable. It takes several attempts to squeeze himself into Kotetsu’s dead wife’s dress. It’s much too tight, but he wears it and holds his head up high as if to show Kotetsu that his dignity will not falter.

The dress hugs Barnaby everywhere. The silky soft material is flat against his skin save for the obvious tent where his erection strains against the material. There’s a small stain on it from where his precum dribbles through and he has to resist the urge to reach down and squeeze it.

Kotetsu kicks the box over to him. “These, too.”

Barnaby feels like he’s being squeezed to death when he bends down to get the box. The dress is so painfully tight and it’s doing nothing to make him forget how turned on he is. Inside the box is a pair of red stilettos. He guesses that they belong to the man who came to the door as they’re larger than the typical women’s size. He has to brace his hand against the dresser to balance himself as he slides on the shoes. They make him even taller, bring out even more of the indentions in his calves, lifts his perfectly round ass.

“Perfect,” Kotetsu says. And it’s _all_ Kotetsu says before he grabs Barnaby and shoves him down onto the bed. Kotetsu sheds his clothes, uses lube to slick his cock, doesn’t even bother with a fucking condom. He makes Barnaby wear both the dress and the heels while he rides Kotetsu’s cock. The sex is rough, hard, with Barnaby’s legs trembling each time Kotetsu grabs Barnaby’s shoulders, shoves him down, and just _grinds_ his cock into him.

“That’s right, Lil’ Bunny, ride my dick,” Kotetsu growls.

Barnaby holds up the end of the dress with one hand and strokes his cock with the other. He tries not to shout when Kotetsu digs his heels into the bed and slams up into him with such force that Barnaby has to let go of the dress to brace himself against Kotetsu’s chest. He still manages to pump his cock, moaning, and whimpering with each dirty degrading word that Kotetsu whispers to him. He cries out, curses, and cums much too soon, making a mess of his hand and downright ruining the dress.

Kotetsu sees the mess and pulls Barnaby’s down, pressing their chests together and continues to fuck him. Barnaby’s cum has seeped through the dress, warm, but cooling quickly. Kotetsu tangles his hand in Barnaby’s soft, golden, hair and forces him into a rough kiss, spreading and furthering damaging the cut near Barnaby’s lip. He manages a few more thrusts into Barnaby’s tight, abused, ass before cumming as well—filling Barnaby up so much that Kotetsu’s cum drips back down onto his own cock.

After a few moments of heavy breathing, Kotetsu pushes Barnaby off of his dick. Barnaby falls onto the bed, sweaty and uncomfortable. “I could still kill you, if that’s what you want,” Kotetsu says, but to Barnaby it doesn’t seem genuine. When Barnaby doesn’t reply, Kotetsu smirks and folds his hands behind his head. “You gotta’ mess to clean up by my back door. See that it happens soon.”

Barnaby rolls his eyes and turns away from Kotetsu. The idiot was completely full of himself. Barnaby could easily grab Kotetsu’s gun lying just a few feet away from him. Hell, he could even grab the knife on the floor and slit Kotetsu’s throat before the other man could even know what was going on.

He _could_ , but he _wouldn’t_.

Kotetsu had demeaned him, forced him to cross dress, and fucked him as if he’d owned every inch of Barnaby’s body. Kotetsu was a lot of things—brash, aggressive, and overly confident, but he wasn’t _boring_.

And Barnaby decides that Kotetsu’s proven that he deserves a few more days of life.

 _For now_.

And Kotetsu, well, he feels the same way.


End file.
